The Ruin of Snow

by Lacy Sheridan

  My blood went cold, and I straightened my shoulders. My voice came out a soft hiss. “She was a witch? A child cursed you?”

  “No, no,” she said. “She wasn’t the one to curse us. That—” She broke off and sighed. “When I joined the others I made it clear that I wanted no part in harming anybody or anything. I’m not a fighter or a hunter. I spoke to the children, and I passed what they said onto the others. That was all I was asked to do and all I wanted to do. What they did with it was them, and it’s their part of the story to tell.”

  “That’s all you’ll tell me?” I asked, sitting back. “That there was a strange little girl who wasn’t the witch?”

  “I said I’d tell my part. Why I was cursed. We each played a part, and mine was to learn secrets—secrets I didn’t keep.” She pushed her thick hair off her shoulders, sweeping it to the side and angling her neck. The base of her hairline, where soft wisps should have met olive skin, was rough and cracked, the warm shade of her skin fading to a jet-black that mingled with her hair. They were tiny, twisting patches of scales. “She called me a snake, the witch,” Enaelle added.

  “You didn’t mean to do any harm,” I replied. I stared into the fire rather than at her, thinking. Punished for pulling secrets from children and passing them on. Even with good intentions, it could be construed as harmful. If something had come from one of those secrets being pulled into light, it might not take much for a witch to believe a curse was justified. A righteous anger fueling it, perhaps. But there was so much more to the story. Six more pieces to find. “And the others? What were their parts?”

  “That’s for them to tell, whenever they’re ready. You’ll have to ask them.”

  I stood. “Thank you, Enaelle.”

  I made it nearly to the door before she said, “Thank you.”

  I paused, looking back. “For what?”

  “For understanding that I tried to help. I would never hurt anybody, especially not a child.”

  I’d known that the first instant I’d seen her; how any witch could believe differently was beyond me. I knew better than to trust easily, but I also wasn’t easy to fool. I smiled a little. “Whatever happened, I’ll find a way to fix it.”

  “You told her?”

  Aurynn’s voice snapped from behind me, and I stopped myself from jumping. I faced her calmly. Enaelle murmured, “She said it’ll help.”

  “Can it?” Aurynn’s eyes narrowed.

  “If I know what emotions and intentions might have been behind the curse, what led up to it, it might make it easier to undo.”

  She looked to Enaelle. “How much did you tell her?”

  “What I had the right to tell her.”

  Back to me. “Did she tell you we were hired to protect that place, and this was the payment we got?” I nodded. “If you can break it, great, but the one other witch we’ve found willing to try said it was stronger than that. So you might want to move on.”

  She took a seat beside Enaelle and began to dig through her pack. I couldn’t help another hint of a smile. “I’m better than most witches,” I said, and left for my guarded little hollow.

  “How is the cure coming?” Idris asked from his place half in shadow on the wall, sharpening a hunting knife.

  In a matter of days something about the tunnels—about the company of the seven of them—had become comfortable. It was becoming more difficult to want to isolate myself, to keep on guard. Even now, there was no trace of tension in Idris or Wesley as they sat in the dim cave with me, like some strange and relaxed…family.

  I listened as I worked, counting and organizing my meager jars of supplies, anticipating a sign of danger that never came. “I feel anger in the curse,” I said—and I did. Felt it in the faint magic on them, the trace of it I could feel and taste if I concentrated. Aurynn’s comment—the witch who had said it was too strong to be broken—heightened my curiosity but also made my gut churn with apprehension. I wasn’t certain I was working at a level I could control.

  But then, I didn’t have to break it. Just put on the right amount of show. Bide my time until Kye helped me get rid of my sisters and mother.

  “Does that change things?”

  “It makes them trickier, for sure. A cold and clean curse can be snapped, but one that comes from true hatred, jealousy, anger: power like that—it’s rarer in magic. And stronger.”

  “Is your magic strong enough to combat it?” A simple but serious question.

  I should lie. I should assure him it was without hesitation, keep that sedate and casual confidence, but I didn’t. I paused and earned a raised eyebrow. I wasn’t sure my magic was, not with how it had been acting, and for some reason I couldn’t pretend otherwise. “It will be,” I settled on.

  “But it isn’t now?”

  “Witches have our limits in our magic, like anything else. Mine is tired. If I work it moderately and let it rest while I sort out what I need to break the curse, it will be strong enough when the time comes.”

  “What do you need to make sure it’s enough?”

  Such a direct offer. I chose my answer with care. “Opportunities to play with the kind of magic I’ll need to use. Time around the…core magic of the curse, I suppose. Something more than trees to test my magic with.”

  Without missing a beat, he said, never raising his head, “Wesley, go help the girl.”

  Wesley looked up from where he lounged in the corner and asked, “Why me?” at the same time I muttered, “I don’t need his help.”

  Idris gave us a slanted look. “Because you’re not doing anything else helpful. And didn’t you say you could use somebody to help strengthen your magic?”

  “What kind of strengthen?” Wesley asked, shooting me a wide-eyed look.

  I folded my arms. “The storm I used before drained me. A lot. I used another strong spell to drive away the wolves before my magic had recovered. It’s like using a strained muscle without letting it rest. It can cause damage. I need to work through the damage before I can do something as complicated as breaking your curse.”

  Partially true. I did need to use it, bit by bit, like strengthening a muscle. I didn’t have much hope of withstanding my sisters if I didn’t; I wasn’t going to rely on luck, and even with Kye’s help I wasn’t walking into a fight without all the magic I could manage. But more than working out the damage, I needed to find what I could achieve. Where that storm had come from, and how to do something like it again—how to control it.

  I’d never had to learn to control magic before, simply how to craft it to my needs. We drew power from the world, and it answered . The lack of control put me on edge as much as it thrilled me.

  “Don’t change me into a toad,” Wesley grumbled as he got to his feet and started through the tunnels. I tucked my things away and followed with a smirk.

  “I think a raccoon is punishment enough.”

  He added something rude under his breath as he ducked into the clearing. I snagged a lantern by the entrance and followed. With the moonlight Wesley looked like a ghost, graceful and silvery against the dark trees. He reclined on one and watched me. “What do you need me to do? And don’t say ‘be a target.’”

  I hadn’t been planning on it, but his tone made me want to. I cocked my head and looked him up and down, thinking. He wasn’t a fighter like Rayick or Kye, not a hunter like Aurynn, but he was stealthy. He had swift, silent feet and nimble fingers—but so did my sisters. Chances were they’d target me with magic, but perhaps that was what they wanted me to anticipate.

  Sarafine had blocked the storm from touching Katherine before I’d taken it over. Maybe I could block things, too.

  Blocking attacks, tracking an unseen opponent on the move—they didn’t sound like bad things to practice.

  “Steal something from me,” I said. He quirked one brow. “Steal something from me. Any object you like. Get away with it, and you can hide it.”

  “You do remember threatening to skin me the last time I did that, don’t y
ou?”

  “Or I can use you as a target,” I amended. He scowled and pushed off the tree.

  “Alright. How is this supposed to help?”

  “Because I don’t intend to let you come within five feet of me.”

  A flicker of intrigue crossed his face. I met his eyes, letting him see how serious I was—and he smiled. Nodded. I returned it.

  Before he moved, he sized me up and then asked, “You aren’t going to disappear my hands or anything, are you?”

  I couldn’t help a soft snort. “No. I’m going to track you without looking, and block you from coming close.”

  “Any permanent damage I get to refund. Thieves’ code. Eye for eye.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He stepped back and melted into the night like he hadn’t been there at all. Hood raised, masking the silvery sheen of his hair in the moonlight, he turned into nothing but a shadow that slipped from my sight in seconds. I tightened my joints to keep from trying to follow his progress and dug for that kernel of magic. Let the heartbeat of the earth, the snow, the trees whisper to me his location while that new piece of my magic stirred and stretched and debated whether to rise.

  Every instinct in me said not to close my eyes, not to turn my back. To keep him in sight, but I ignored it. Let my magic keep me safe instead. I trusted it. I’d always trusted it. Wesley was a different danger than had lurked in the noble squares, but was a danger I could control and defend against.

  To his credit, he was silent. But I knew when he stepped closer, coming from behind and to the left. I raised a hand in his direction, eyes closed. “Too easy.”

  “How?” he asked.

  “Try again.”

  I could hear his scowl and swallowed a laugh as he stalked off. Then the silence returned. My magic searched for him, tingling at his eyes on me as he circled. I held my breath and listened—not for him, but for the earth, the power that I could reach out and touch. Asked it to protect me, while the new magic coiled like a predator ready to strike. Sharpened its claws on my bones and waited.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  And then a whisper, like a breath of wind through my mind. Coming from the right this time. I forced myself not to move or speak but pushed at the coiled beast in my chest. Willed it to go.

  A curse, and then the crack of something hitting the snow and ice. I opened my eyes to find Wesley sprawled on the ground, eyes wide. For a second we were both frozen, and then he hauled himself to his feet, brushing snow from his pants. “Never seen magic like that,” he muttered.

  I lifted a hand and felt what it had done—a layer like glass curving around my right side, a foot from me. Invisible, and then it popped like a soap bubble and was gone. I fought a smile. “Again.”

  “Again?”

  “Again.”

  “That seemed plenty strengthened to me.”

  “Again, Wesley.”

  He grumbled but stepped into the shadows, and I tried not to let the small victory make my chest too light as I closed my eyes. We went as sweat slid down my spine despite the frigid night, and my muscles ached, and Wesley’s attempts got more fervent and annoyed. And then one more.

  I could feel that new little seed of magic drifting, ready to draw away and hide. From behind again, angled to the right—I threw the barrier up. A snicker floated on the breeze from my left and I whirled to it, eyes snapping open.

  Wesley darted between the trees, all silver again. “No cheating,” he called. “You said to hide anything I got.”

  I gritted my teeth. He had a point. “How’d you get around my magic?”

  “Well, whether it was sound or something about me you were tracking, you can’t keep up with two things in different directions. I had a fifty-fifty chance of being the one you missed.”

  I glanced in the direction I’d blocked to see his cloak hung on a tree branch, rippling in the breeze, and folded my arms. There was enough of him on it to confuse the magic, worn thin as it was; he was smarter than I’d given him credit for.

  It also meant my magic was too easy to find a way around. My sisters would be quicker than Wesley was.

  I muttered, “Fine, you win that one,” and closed my eyes. My magic settled, resting. Westley returned, and the silence was cold and piercing, pressing on me. “I have a question,” I said.

  “About?”

  I moved my head in the direction of his voice, but kept my eyes closed. “How did you wind up here? With the others?”

  “You mean how did I go from a jewel thief to cursed and stuck in the middle of a forest?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where should I start?”

  I considered. “How did you become a jewel thief?”

  His voice softened, distracted. “I started out a pickpocket.” A pause. “I didn’t intend a life of crime, believe it or not. Once I dreamed I’d find some honorable work. Maybe a blacksmith—I’ve always been good enough with my hands.”

  “Why a pickpocket, then?”

  “I didn’t have a choice. I was born in Fraida, to a maid.” Fraida, a massive port city teeming with trade and merchants and adventure. I had visited once, years ago, and remembered the smell of salt and excitement in the air. “My mother was young and unwed and either didn’t know or wouldn’t say who my father was. My bet is on the lord of the house—I remember him making comments around her and plenty of other women on staff—but of course if it is true, it’s not as if anybody would acknowledge it. I worked practically from the moment I could walk. She fell ill and died when I was eight, and I was out in the streets.”

  My throat tightened. “I’m sorry.”

  He paused again, maybe to contemplate a hiding place, maybe to compose himself, and then continued, “Begging for food doesn’t get you far in a trade city, and I figured out that there were people with food and money to spare. So I stole what I needed to survive. There are enough starving orphans running around that the merchants know to watch for them, and I got caught more than a few times. I went hungry enough nights and was hit enough times that I learned I had to be good at it. So I was. Then I was stealing bigger and bigger things. That’s really all, I guess.”

  His voice drew closer, and I opened my eyes to see him leaning on a tree again, cloak replaced, watching me. “How long have you been with the others?”

  “I’ve known Enaelle since I was thrown out of the house. We met in the market, and she gave me an orange her mother had bought for her. We stayed in touch however we could. I was nineteen when I first met Idris, after he left Acalta’s guard. Aurynn and Rayick were already with him, and I joined them then and there. I knew it’d be nothing but trouble, but it felt worth the risk. I visited Enaelle before we left the city, to tell her and say goodbye, but she insisted on coming with me.” A little smile tugged at one corner of his lips, and I knew there was more behind the story.

  “Does Enaelle know you love her?” I asked.

  Others might have startled or denied it. Wesley sighed, shook his head a little, and said, “Aren’t we here to practice?”

  We were, and it was none of my business. I glanced around the clearing, scouring my tired mind and power for an imprint of him anywhere among the trees, but my attention was drawn back to him. To the extra tiny pulse of magic on him, almost drowned out by the curse. “I don’t think caraway seeds are very valuable to you, not being a witch,” I said.

  He pulled a hand from his pocket, the little jar I’d brought from the house in his fingers. “And here I thought I’d expand my horizons stealing something other than bread and jewels,” he tossed it to me.

  I caught it and started for the tunnels, Wesley a step behind. I’d made progress, but I couldn’t shake the thought that it wasn’t enough. I knew it wasn’t, and I didn’t know if I had time for these tiny steps forward. “Why join the others, if you knew trouble was going to come out of it?” I asked.

  He lifted one shoulder. “A broke, unwanted scoundrel offered a place with a bunch of other unwant
ed scoundrels who had money to eat? It sounded good enough. And they’re not the worst company.”

  I stared into the dark. “No, they aren’t.”

  Sixteen

  I studied the array of weapons spread across half a wall of one of the smaller tunnels. Rough-constructed racks of wood and rope held more blades than I’d seen in one place. Countless knives, large and small, of more shapes than I knew knives came in, and I counted four swords. Near the end stood two mismatched wooden bows and quivers. A spear and a shield had found a place in the collection too.

  “Where did you get all these?” I asked.

  Kye lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “One bow is Aurynn’s and the other Tamsin’s. Rayick and Idris both had swords from their war days. Plenty were on us when we were cursed; we stayed armed. The spear and shield came from an unlucky knight got lost in the forest last winter. Some others we picked up here or there. Not all are in very good shape, but they’re useful.”

  “Why keep them here, rather than with the people they belong to?”

  “We’re surviving here,” he lifted a sword from the creaky rack and slid it from its dark sheath. The candlelight made the steel glow. “And survival like this takes trust and teamwork. It’s easiest for everybody to have access.”

  I folded my arms, tilting my head to study him. The sure, familiar way he handled the weapon as he inspected the blade. Maybe I should have retreated, with him wielding it so close to me. One twitch and he could take my head off. But I didn’t. “You trust the others not to use them against you?”

  “Why would they?”

  Because I would have. I said, “You never know if you can trust anybody but yourself.”

  His eyes gleamed and half-smiled. “You really don’t trust anybody but yourself, do you?”

  “You wouldn’t, either, if you were me. It’s better than trusting blindly.”

  “That’s true.” He dipped the sword, as if admiring how the light drifted on the blade. “But you’re standing here when I could kill you if I wanted to.”

  “You’re forgetting magic,” I reminded him. “I’m never unarmed.”